


A Sixth Birthday

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Series: Birthdays [2]
Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 23:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: A look back at Hannibal and Face, a year after they decide to move forward together. A sequel to Five Birthdays.





	A Sixth Birthday

Face stared at the racks of wine in front of him and decided he felt particularly out of his depth. He wanted a good bottle, something that would go well with the meal he was planning for tonight but now, standing here looking at the wine stacked on the shelves all around him, he was nothing short of flummoxed. There was a time when he knew he’d have been able to choose something straight away, a time when names of wine meant something to him, and if they didn’t he’d have been able to wink and flash a grin and make up some scam about being a wine critic testing the grocery stores on their wine knowledge and what would the assistant recommend? In those days he’d probably have left with a crate of complimentary bottles and a date to boot.

 

Such days were well behind him now, however. His in-depth knowledge of fine wines had been jettisoned by his mind when all he was trying to do was survive with at least a tiny shred of his sanity intact in the darkness of Ortiz’ cellar. Most things were lost at that time, even his knowledge of who he was and who he’d been before the kidnap, and only some had returned, it was impossible for him to know exactly what was gone for good.

 

As such, he couldn’t get down about it all; how could he miss what he didn’t remember? And anything vital, Hannibal had coaxed back into him, dragged it out from the strong boxes in his mind where everything had been preserved to try and save it from the horror of those months in captivity.

 

It was shame his memories of Ortiz couldn’t be lost just as easily. They were still there in his head at every moment of the day waiting to pop up when he wasn’t expecting them. The slightest thing could bring one to the fore once more, and when they came they would hit so strongly that Face could smell the damn place, feel the lingering chill, hear Ortiz mocking him, taunting him, moaning in his ear…

 

Face shook himself and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed him zoning out like that. If Hannibal had been here he would have had a warm touch on his arm to bring him back, nothing too much, nothing that they needed to talk about, just that touch and a smile and Face would be back in the present once more. But of course he was alone today, and that was fine, going out on his own didn’t bother him anymore, it just meant he needed to be more aware about letting the past sneak up on him.

 

He pushed it away once more and walked down the aisle, his eyes scanning the names on the shelves. It was his birthday today, his ‘official’ birthday at any rate. He smiled at that, it always made him feel like the Queen of England when he thought of this tradition Murdock had invented for him. It was a shame Murdock and BA were out of town; Adele Baracus had broken her hip and they were up there lending her moral support. He and Hannibal had stayed in the south – they were in the middle of a job, not a particularly huge or tricky one, Hannibal tried to avoid those now, more of a glorified paper trail instead. And that’s where Hannibal was, back in the warehouse they used as their HQ, in the little office at the rear, sorting through pages and pages of phone records, trying to find out who it was behind the hostile takeover bids being thrown at a little group of traders with a tiny mall on the coast. Face had done a little recon earlier in the day, he was never asked to do a stake-out at night any more, and then had offered to stop off and get some things in for their nice dinner when Hannibal had taken longer than he’d wanted to.

 

The offer of a meal out had been there, but Face had declined. It wasn’t like he couldn’t cope in public or anything pathetic like that, but he did tend to feel uneasy in crowds, and a night with just the two of them in the little house they shared was far, _far_ more appealing to him then going to some high class joint down town. Suddenly his eyes fell on a name, Shiraz, and he smiled remembering that one, knowing that Hannibal liked it and somehow dredging up a memory that it would be good with meat. He picked up two bottles and put them in his cart along with the prawns, ready prepared vegetables and baked strawberry cheesecake and glanced at his watch. Shit, Alessandro would have the kleftiko ready for him to pick up now, he’d better get going if he wanted to be showered and ready by the time Hannibal came home, he had big plans for tonight.

 

He rushed through the checkouts then made for the door, stopping dead as he walked out into the balmy air, finding that darkness had fallen and caught him unaware. Another cart ran straight into his back and he glanced apologetically at the owner who was glaring at him for blocking the exit, stepping out of the way as he considered his next move. It was an unfortunate result of his time in the cellar that he’d developed this rather inconvenient loathing of the dark. It wasn’t a fear, he refused to see it as that, and it didn’t exactly stop him from going out at night or anything like that, he just didn’t like it. At all.

 

He looked over at the darkened corner where he’d left his bike, then scanned the entire parking lot, reassuring himself that there was no suspicious vans parked just waiting to snatch him off the streets again. He took a deep breath and was just about to head out across the lot when the doors behind him opened and a young mom with a baby carrier on the cart walked quickly past him. He seized his chance, slipping in right behind her, hoping she was parked somewhere near him and then peeling away at the last minute, digging his keys from his pocket even as he pulled his helmet on over his head. The groceries were packed into the sleek black panniers either side of his Triumph in minutes, and he felt a whole lot more comfortable once he was mounted up and ready to go.

 

For his birthday two years ago, the team had bought him a Victory 8 Ball bike, which he had been an inspired purchase once he’d got back onto the swing of riding it. That bike had given him back his independence, and also provided a place to be when he needed to just be alone from time to time. No one was ever going to let him sit up in the bedroom by himself all afternoon, but there was never any objection to him taking his bike out for a long solitary ride. Everyone was happy.

 

He still had it, it was parked in the garage back home, but he tended to only use it for those long rides out now, it was too flashy for his tastes around town, drew too much attention to itself and so last year, he’d bought the Triumph as well. It was smaller and neater, if still a little flashy, but just what he needed right now; he loved the anonymity of tugging his helmet on and vanishing into the traffic.

 

That’s what he did now, swinging by the Olive Tree to pick up his take-out and arriving home at the same time as Hannibal’s text saying he was leaving. He smiled as he jogged up the steps from the garage, perfect timing.

 

_____________________

 

Hannibal locked the warehouse and stood back as he watched BA’s carefully installed security system slip into action before turning and striding purposefully to the car. He was frustrated that what he’d thought was going to be such a simple job had turned into a paperwork nightmare. They were half the team down and today was Face’s birthday, he really did have much better things he could have been doing. He’d found a lead though he thought, brought the numbers back for Face to have a look at later on and so maybe that had to count for something.

 

He fired off a text, apologising again for being so late and started the engine of his SUV, starting out on the twenty minute drive home. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to Face that day and knew that the kid wasn’t that upset at having a low-key birthday. In reality, he knew it was far more what he wanted these days and wondered if it upset him, being so different from how he was before.

 

For a long time after Face came back to them, mentally, as well as physically, Hannibal worried so much for him. He never seemed happy, he was always anxious and withdrawn, worrying about every single thing in his life. Hannibal hated to see him like that, so different from the happy-go-lucky Face who’d been taken all those years ago now. He worried less about it these days, the worry and the frowns only appeared occasionally and Face seemed to have, finally, found a compromise he was happy with.

 

He would never be the same carefree soul he was beforehand though, Hannibal guessed he’d seen far too much, suffered far too much, for that to happen. But, he’d found this new person inside him, with Face’s love and loyalty, sense of humour and fun, but also a darker edge, someone who always assumed the worst, searched for demons around every corner, tended to look a great deal before he leapt – but ultimately someone who could be happy in his own skin.

 

If Face was happy, then Hannibal was happy too. Yes, there were still the nightmares that came with alarming ferocity, and the fear of the dark that meant every room in their house had a night light in it. Face had also switched to being left handed when he realised that the weakness and lack of control he had in his right would never get any better; the injury being a result of a broken wrist being left to heal itself, damaging the nerves – an incident from the early days of his capture that Face couldn’t even remember now. Then there was the dislike of crowds and small spaces, the tendency he had to always locate the exit when he walked into a new room; a habit Hannibal doubted he was even aware of. All of these things Hannibal knew were here to stay now, might lessen over time, but they were part of who Face was.

 

And that was the thing that mattered the most here – this was Face, and Hannibal loved him, every single thing about him and incredibly, Face loved him back.

 

The disastrous fall-out  of a year ago was now nothing more than water under the bridge. After a brief spell in his own rented apartment, Face moved back in when Hannibal fell ill with labyrinthitus, and thankfully, never moved out again once Hannibal was back on his feet. They returned to sharing the same bed, to holding and kissing and then, on Christmas Eve of last year, finally got around to making love.

 

It had been so beautiful that they’d both cried, laid on the floor in front of the tree and its sparkling lights and Face had later admitted that the fact he could still do it, make love, not have sex, was the end of the biggest fear he’d had since leaving Ortiz’ clutches. At that point Hannibal wished they’d done it sooner, that he could have given that peace to his boy months, years earlier even.

 

Despite that tiny regret, however, everything was perfect; Hannibal might still have his own nightmares occasionally, still have his own fears that somehow, Face would vanish from his side once more, but really, he was as happy as he could ever imagine being – it was wonderful.

 

Just these last few weeks though, he’d felt that there was something weighing on Face’s mind a little. The nightmares had started to come a little more regularly, Face had been on more and more solo rides with his bike, Hannibal had caught him looking pensively out of the window on more than one occasional. It had coincided with Agent Dark asking if Hannibal would bring the team back to work with them on cracking a particularly large human trafficking ring; Hannibal hadn’t shared that fact with Face yet, really wasn’t sure how he would take it, but honestly wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the kid already knew, if that’s what was freaking him out.

 

Hannibal pushed all these thoughts to the back of his mind, however, as he drew up to the house and smiled at the lights shining out of every window he could see. He and Face were together, they were happy and healthy and it was the kid’s birthday – there was so much to be thankful for.

 

He wandered into the kitchen, throwing the car keys onto the side and  his stomach instantly grumbled at the aromas that greeted him. “Hey, Face,” he shouted to the silent house, “you there?”

 

“Out back,” came the instant reply and Hannibal turned on his heel, wandering out to the terrace at the back of the house, stopping in the doorway as he saw Face, dressed in a suit and tie, sitting at a table set for two, flowers, candles, wine, the whole works. He flushed guiltily.

 

“Sweetheart,” he bent and gave his lover a welcoming kiss, “you shouldn’t have done this, it’s your birthday! I should be the one setting all this up!”

 

Face shrugged, “It’s okay. I get to eat it too. You gonna go and get changed?”

 

Hannibal looked a little curiously at him and then nodded, dropping one more kiss as he promised, “Two minutes…”

 

It was actually nearer five by the time he was thundering back down the stairs, his hair wet from his shower, still tugging his tie into place his eyes meeting Face’ appreciative smile.

 

“You didn’t have to wear that.”

 

“You kidding?” Hannibal smiled as he slid into the seat opposite Face, taking a sip of the glass of wine waiting for him. “With you looking that gorgeous? How could I let you down?”

 

Face just laughed and went to get the starters from the fridge.

 

The meal was perfect, the wine went down a treat, the evening air was soft and balmy and their conversation was light but intimate and Hannibal hoped it was just what Face had wanted from his birthday. There had still been that edge though, that sense that not everything was right with Face, that something was bothering him and Hannibal was just about to suggest they retired upstairs where he could try and love the distance away, when Face leaned forward slightly, his brow creased, and took hold of Hannibal’s fingers tightly in his own.

 

Deep in Hannibal’s mind, alarm bells started ringing and his heart picked up an anxious beat as he looked at Face’s bent head, wondering what on earth the kid had to tell him that was so serious. He waited, knowing that Face needed a little time to organise his thoughts and just prayed that, whatever this was, they would survive it.

 

“John…” Face’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant and that fear in Hannibal’s heart doubled. “I need to tell you some things, and, well I’d like you to just let me have my say, okay? Just listen until I’m finished, not interrupt, can you do that for me?”

 

“You’re scaring me,” Hannibal admitted instead. “But you can tell me anything you want, I thought you’d know that about us?”

 

Face squeezed his fingers, “I do, I do… it’s just…” he shook his head and forced a flat smile out. “And don’t worry; it’s nothing bad… I hope…”

 

Partially reassured, Hannibal nodded and Face’s eyes fell back to the table top.

 

“I know I’m not the same person I was before Ortiz, we both know that.”

 

It wasn’t the start that Hannibal had expected. It was the kid’s _birthday_ for crying out loud. Did they have to talk about this _now_? Could he not be free of that spectre for one single day? “Face-”

 

But Face, however, cut him off. “You promised, right, John? I need to say some things.”

 

Swallowing, Hannibal nodded.

 

“So, I’m not the same person, I get that, but I feel… I feel a lot has come back, these past few years, I feel that I’ve maybe got back some of the good bits, enough for you to recognise, right? You and the guys, I mean.”

 

“You are _you_ , kid, always have been,” Hannibal offered but Face didn’t look up.

 

“Well, yeah, but what I wanted to say… I mean… what I was thinking… shit…” he dropped Hannibal’s fingers and instead rubbed at his forehead as Hannibal leaned closer to him.

 

“Face, baby, I’m here, I’m always here.”

 

That brought a chuckle from Face and that hand reached out again, grabbing Hannibal’s fingers tightly. “I know, that’s kind of what this is about…”

 

Hannibal frowned in confusion but squeezed Face’s hand back in his own.

 

“I just feel…” Face was staring at the table once more. “I feel… well, everything I’ve got back, my health, my sanity, my memories, my confidence, my autonomy, well…” his head lifted and met Hannibal’s eyes. “It’s all down to you, boss.”

 

Hannibal hadn’t expected that, and he was struggling to see why that would make Face so uptight these last few weeks. “It wasn’t me,” he maintained, “it was you, kid. You’re the one who’s done all the fighting, not _me_.”

 

“But you made me,” Face maintained. “You could have packed me off to the loony bin when I got out, just like they wanted you to, and I’d have still been there now, locked in Ortiz’ cellar in my head. But you didn’t, you brought me home, made me act like a human again, made me remember who I was, who you were, what life was like before that time…” He hung his head. “Without you, I’d be nothing right now.”

 

For a second Hannibal was speechless. “ _You_ were the one who did all the hard work, though, Face. We just helped you along the road.”

 

Face’s eyes were up at that, the sharp blue boring into Hannibal’s. “I read your diaries, John,” he admitted with a blush over his cheeks. “You wouldn’t tell me how bad I’d been and I knew you’d written them and… I’m sorry, but I had to know.”

 

Now it was Hannibal’s turn to hang his head. “Oh, Face…” he breathed covering his eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Those diaries had been Hannibal’s lifeline when Face was at his very worst. He hadn’t wanted to burden anyone else with the absolute bitter truth of how dreadful things were back then, not even BA or Agent Dark, so he’d taken to writing it all down instead. All the problems Face had had, all the set-backs and even worse, his feelings through it all, his anger, frustration, down-right sadness – it was all there and Face had read it all.

 

“I’m sorry, I am Hannibal. I know it was betraying your trust in me-”

 

“No,” Hannibal’s head snapped up. “That’s not it Face. But those thoughts and facts weren’t meant for you, they were a product of my stress in a time that was dark and hopeless… I said things in there that were never meant for you to hear.”

 

“I know,” Face’s voice was soft and he squeezed Hannibal’s hand in his own. “But I needed to know how far I’d come, I hadn’t realised how bad it had been… and it helped me, it helped me to see that while I might not ever get it all back, I’d come so far that I was quite possibly the luckiest bastard alive.”

 

Hannibal didn’t answer; knowing what he did about those dark days with Ortiz, he would _never_ call Face that.

 

“Anyway…” there was a long breath. “That’s why I know how far I’ve come, how far you’ve dragged me and I want you to know how grateful I am to you for that.”

 

“Face, please don’t. You would have done exactly the same for me.”

 

“You said you would let me speak.”

 

Hannibal squeezed his hand again.

 

“Maybe I would have, I certainly would have tried my best, but the thing is Hannibal, I didn’t need to. You were the one who was put into that position, you were the one that fought for me, fought against me sometimes, and gave me back everything I’d lost. And I have to thank you, right from the very bottom of my being, John. You saved my life, but more importantly, you saved my mind and my heart and my soul, thank you, thank you so, so much.”

 

Suddenly Hannibal was choked in tears. He didn’t want Face’s thanks or gratitude, but he did realise how important it was for the kid to acknowledge how he felt so he just looked up, met Face’s wet blue eyes with his own and whispered. “You’re very welcome, Temp. And I do it again, any time, for you.” But he’d pray to God he’d never need to.

 

Face nodded then looked away again, out over the veranda this time, to the orange tinged sky above them but he still looked pensive which had Hannibal worrying once more, especially at the next words that left his mouth; “Which brings me onto the next thing…”

 

Hannibal wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

 

“It would be a lie to say that I never have any issues any more with the kidnap and all of that, we both know that but…” he met Hannibal’s eyes once more. “You do know that I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, right? I mean I’ve proved that these last couple of years, with everything I’ve done, the way I’ve coped, yes?”

 

Despite the pounding of his heart Hannibal managed a very calm, “Of course.” Was this Face _leaving_ him? What Hannibal had put down as a birthday meal was actually a _goodbye_? Jesus Christ, he hoped not.

 

Face meanwhile nodded, and chewed his lip for a moment in that awkward manner he had when he felt very uncomfortable. “So, you and me…” he shifted in his seat. “You’re not with me just because… well, for, you know… pity?”

 

The word hung in the air between them as Hannibal tried to wrap his head around what Face was actually saying to him. _Pity?_ Did the boy not know him at all?

 

He shook his head. “Face, kid… How can you say that? No, definitely no, a million times, no… Absolutely, no… I tell you every single day that I love you, how can you doubt me?”

 

Face whirled away from the skyline, both his hands wrapped around Hannibal’s now, his eyes intense and pleading. “I don’t,” he soothed, “I swear boss, I don’t, I just… I wouldn’t ever want to trap you, that’s all.”

 

“Trap me?” Hannibal was utterly confused about what was going on.

 

“If you said yes, I’d want it to be because you meant it, not just because you think I can’t cope on my own!”

 

Hannibal’s frown of confusion deepened, “Said yes?”

 

“Oh, fucking hell,” Face withdrew his hands and rubbed his own face, hard. “I’m making a right fucking mess of this…” he shook his head at Hannibal who was reaching for him again and instead slid out from the table, dropping to one knee at Hannibal’s side. Hannibal froze, his planned appeals for Face to explain himself a bit better were swallowed as his eyes widened in shock.

 

“Hannibal Smith,” Face whispered, his huge eyes fixed on Hannibal’s face. “I love you with everything I am. You make every day on this world a joy to live. There is _nothing_ I would change in my life as long as I could always have this moment right now.” He took a deep breath. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you, I want to laugh with you, live with you, love with you. I will work hard, every single day, to try and be the man you deserve. John, will you marry me?”

 

There wasn’t a sound to be heard apart from the thrumming of the crickets as Hannibal stared in complete and utter surprise at the plain, brushed silver ring that Face was offering in its little blue box. Never, _never,_ in his entire life had he imagined being in this particular situation. The moment stretched on, the little blue box wavered slightly in Hannibal’s blurred vision and he shook himself, springing into action, slipping onto the decking in front of Face, taking the hand holding the box in his two, pulling it into his chest, tugging Face close with it.

 

“Oh, my beautiful boy,” he breathed, a tear sliding down his cheek. “You’d do that? You’d want to marry _me_?”

 

Face frowned, “Of course!”

 

“Yes,” Hannibal pulled them flush together and kissed him. “Oh, my baby, I’d love to, I’d _love_ to.” He leaned away a little and lifted Face’s chin with his fingers, seeing the wet, spiked eye lashes that betrayed his boy’s emotions. “You have made me the happiest man alive,” Face offered a fluttery little smile at that. “There is nothing in the world I would like more than marrying you. Absolutely, nothing.”

 

There was one thing of course, but that would involve changing the past which, so far, was impossible. Given that, he’d take marriage to this incredible man any day of the week instead.

 

The watery smile on his boy’s face wavered and broke into a real one, a huge shining grin and Hannibal’s heart almost burst in happiness in response. Face fumbled his hands out of Hannibal’s grip and carefully lifted the ring from its cushion, sliding it gently over Hannibal’s finger until it rested against his hand, almost like it had always been there. “It’s perfect,” he breathed.

 

“You’re perfect,” Hannibal growled and kissed him hard.

 

They knelt on the deck together, necking like teenagers, Hannibal loving the feel of his growing erection rubbing up against Face’s thigh, when Face pulled back slightly. “You think we should ring the guys?” he breathed, “Let them know?”

 

“No,” Hannibal climbed to his feet and tugged Face with him. “Not yet, not until we’ve had chance to celebrate ourselves.”

 

“Right,” Face frowned, eyes flicking to the kitchen. “I didn’t get any champagne though. I should have done, shouldn’t I? Maybe I could walk out to the store?”

 

Hannibal kissed him again, holding them flush together, feeling the heat leeching from one to the other. “That’s not the kind of celebration I had in mind,” he growled, backing up towards the door. “The kind I imagined means we’ll be indoors. And naked.”

 

Face laughed as he let himself be pulled inside. “Ah… okay. I think I could fit you in, if we’re quick.”

 

“Oh, I know you can fit me in,” Hannibal leered, “But I promise you, nothing about this will be quick…”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Face stepped away from Hannibal, walking backwards across the dining area towards the stairs. “You sure about that, old man? Sounds like a challenge to me…” as he walked, he stripped off his jacket and loosened his tie, leaving the figure hugging vest that Hannibal loved so much clinging to his soft white shirt, showing all the muscle that he’d worked so hard to put back on after his captivity.

 

Hannibal swallowed. “Oh, it’s a challenge alright,” he muttered, stalking after his prey, “And I’ll make you take back that ‘old man’ jibe, kiddo!”

 

Face just raised an insolent eyebrow and sprinted for the stairs as Hannibal followed him, almost tripping over the huge grin he wore on the way. He guessed they’d never be free of the spectre of Ortiz and what he’d done, not completely, but as long as they lived in the sunshine of their love, the shadow he cast would be small and faint and eclipsed by everything they had together.

 

Hannibal knew he’d make damn sure of that.      


End file.
